What if?
by Lia Felix
Summary: What if Erik never dropped the backdrop on Carlotta? What if Christine didn’t get to sing in Hannibal? Would Raoul even realise that she was at Opera Populairé? Would everything end the same way for our teacher and his student? E/C, AU.
1. The NonExistent Phantom

_Chapter 1 revised! Sorry, half of it has been beta-ed, but I wanted to get this up. Sorry for the lack of updates!_

**DISCALIMER: I don't own Phantom of the Opera. How I wish I did.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"…and allow me to introduce our new patron, the Vicomte de Chagny."

As a figure made its way through the crowded stage, Christine let out a small gasp and gripped the rail.

"What is it?" Meg whispered. Christine nodded in the direction of the three men standing beside Leferve.

"It's Raoul…" she said. "When we were small, we used to stay in a house by the sea…" She trailed off, a small dreamy smile appearing on her lips. "I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts… He called me Little Lotte…"

Meg glanced at the small crowd gathered around the Vicomte, and grasped Christine's hand.

"Oh, Christine! He is so handsome."

_Indeed,_ Christine thought as she glanced back at the gaggle of swooning chorus girls behind them. _They certainly agree._

The giggles grew louder, earning all of them a vicious glare from the Ballet Mistress. Suddenly, a hush descended upon them as the Vicomte swept past. Christine ducked her head along with the rest of them, only sneaking a peek as Raoul brushed past her.

"Dancers! Now!" Madame Giry barked, pointing to the stage. The girls lined up in their stating positions immediately. The music started, and the dance began.

Christine dipped and whirled, concentrating hard on each movement. She glanced over at Meg, giving a wistful sigh at how easy dancing seemed to come for her friend.

_This is why you will never be a main role, Christine Daae!_ Her brain told her. She mentally pushed the thought away. _Concentrate!_

Carlotta's voice pierced through her thoughts, as sharp as a knife. Christine winced, and continued to dance, noting now that both the managers seemed to have their gaze fixed on the two chorus girls in front of her.

Carlotta seemed to realise this too, for her voice seemed to grow louder and sharper as she glared at Andre and Firmin.

As the last note of the song died away, the girls and Christine moved off to the side of the stage. Carlotta however, stormed over to the two new managers, her eyes furious.

"I hope," she began loudly, cutting off the managers in their talk, "that your precious patron is as excited by dancing girls as you two, because I will _NOT_ be singing!"

With that, she stalked around in a rage, screaming out orders as she headed for the exit.

Christine and Meg both shared a look, before turning their backs on the scene. They both knew it would be a while before anything was back in order again, especially when La Carlotta threw one of her daily tantrums.

The two managers exchanged a worried look, and tottered after the diva.

Christine and Meg stood with the rest of the ballet girls, chattering and occasionally throwing a look at the scene. After a while, Andre and Firmin both managed to miraculously bring the diva back, with much persuasion and a bucket load of false flattery.

"Be quiet, all of you!" Carlotta screeched at the throng of performers that littered the stage. The whispers died away slowly, as everyone focused their attention on the diva.

Andre and Firmin exchanged a brief glance. _She was a bloody nightmare!_

Monsieur Reyer picked up his baton, nodded slightly to Carlotta, and started the music.

Carlotta cleared her throat theatrically and began to sing.

"_**Think of me  
Think of me fondly,  
When we said goodbye!"**_

Everyone winced as she hit the top note, which sounded more like a dying cat being shredded with a knife than anything remotely human. Carlotta however, didn't seem to notice everyone's discomfort and continued her song.

From the wings, a shadow detached itself from the gloom and peered down at the _shrieking_ soprano and the cast.

"_**Remember me,  
Once in a while,  
Please promise me you'll try!"**_

Erik's poor ears had never suffered so much torment until today. Generally, he refused to stay anywhere within 50 metres of Carlotta when she sang, except today he needed a glance of the new managers of his opera house. Erik was sorely regretting his decision now. Managers or no managers, he needed to stop that incessant noise! He glanced around the wings, and spied a rope that secured the backdrop of Hannibal.

Erik gave a small smirk and made his way silently to the rope. He seized it in his gloved hands and quickly untied it.

He was about to let go, until he suddenly caught sight of a small brunette standing only a few feet away from the diva who was directly in line of the backdrop.

Erik scowled, and tied the rope back onto its stabilizer. It wouldn't do for him to hurt his student after all. He sighed quietly. Carlotta would have to wait.

He looked around the stage and saw Antoinette Giry staring up at him. He gave her a curt nod, and dropped a letter rimmed with black down towards the stage. Erik swiftly turned around and disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

Antoinette's eyes followed the letter's descent onto the stage. As soon as it landed, she ducked around the chorus members and picked it up. A red wax seal in the shape of the skull glared back at her, its mouth grinning. She turned around and watched as the new managers uttered false praises of the Soprano, and then made her way over to them.

"I have a letter, sir, from the Opera Ghost," she stated, brandishing the letter in the faces of the two men.

As soon as the last two words were uttered, a flurry of high pitched shrieks came from the chorus girls, who pressed together in a group.

"_The Opera Ghost!"_

"_He is here!"_

"_What is going to happen now...?"_

More shrieks and screams followed this as most of the girls now were worked up into a state of near hysteria. The stagehands and the backing singers were now muttering nervously too, their eyes darting to and fro. Christine could feel herself getting anxious as she cast nervous glances around the stage. So far, she couldn't see anything out of place…

A sharp crack of a stick hitting the floor rang out through the theatre, silencing the noise at once.

"Girls!" The Ballet Mistress' voice rang out, thick with disapproval. "_Behave yourselves_!"

The Corps de Ballet immediately made themselves scarce, all standing as innocent as daisies.

"Oh, you people are obsessed!!" Firmin muttered in disgust, casting an angry glare at Antoinette.

She gave him a small look of displeasure, before holding up the letter once again and proceeded to read it out loud.

"_My dear monsieurs. No doubt you will not have heard of me before, but I feel that it is my duty to welcome you most graciously to my Opera House-"_

"HIS Opera House?" Firmin exclaimed in annoyance, his face slowly turning red.

"_-and I do hope that you will continue to leave Box 5 __empty__ for my __use, as I had previously arranged with Leferve. I would also take this chance, gentlemen, to remind you that my salary is due__." _

"His SALARY?" Firmin looked like he was about to suffer an epileptic fit, before snatching the note away from Antoinette's hands.

Antoinette sniffed in annoyance.

"Well of course. Monsieur Leferve used to give him 20,000 francs a month. Perhaps you can afford more, with the Vicomte as your patron?"

Andre glanced at his companion, who looked as if he was on the edge of blowing up at the calm lady standing in front of him.

"Madame, I will not tolerate anymore of this sick joke." Firmin roared at the entire cast, who stood silent and refused to meet his gaze. Only Carlotta continued to look bored, gazing at her fingernails in a slight off-hand way.

"The Opera Ghost does not exist, and never did! Do I make myself clear? I've had quite enough of this nonsense!"

Antoinette looked at the raging man and calmly stated, "Then monsieur, you cannot blame us with the excuse that we did not warn you beforehand." With that, she turned and walked away.

Firmin yelled in annoyance and stalked to his office. Andre gave a look of unease at the silent performers, and followed his partner.

* * *

_A/N: I know, it's a more extended version, but I really wasn't happy with the first one. I don't know If I'm happy with this one either..._


	2. Greetings from the Ghost

_Wow, sorry about the late update guys!! I've been so busy with school, and writer's lock on top of that...T.T  
thanks for being patient with me! A special thanks to my Beta Reader, Arcelia! Without her, most of you would be cringing at my atrocius grammar. XDD_

_Please R&R It would make this author's day!! Plot and Character development is always welcome!!_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or anything related. If I did, then I wouldn't be writing here, would I? Plot is mine though**_

--

**Chapter 2**

Erik climbed back down from the rafters, and headed down the darkened corridor. He paused as he heard a roar coming from the stage. He smirked, knowing how the managers would react to his note.

After deliberating for a while, he decided to "grace" them with another visit. Erik turned and started down the hallway again. This time, he paused outside the girl's dormitories. Glancing behind him, he pushed open the door and quickly made him way inside. His eyes raked over each bed, before finally coming to a rest on the far corner.

Walking over to it, he withdrew something from inside his cloak, and placed it gently on the pillow. Then, silently as he came, he left the room and headed down the hall again, towards the sounds of a slamming door.

* * *

Two young women detached themselves from the muttering cast, and tiptoed backstage. They made it behind the curtains, and set off at full sprint down the corridor to the dormitories. They giggled as they rounded to corner, and dashed into their dormitory.

They both fell into a heap on a bed, laughing and giggling.

"Thank goodness for the Opera Ghost, I thought that rehearsal would NEVER end!" Meg cried, her face flushed from the run.

She flopped back on the bed, her blonde hair fanning out on the covers. Christine turned and frowned at her friend.

"Its bad luck to speak of him, Meg, you know that." Christine stated solemnly. "You don't want him coming after us, do you?"

Meg glanced over to her companion, before giving a melodramatic sigh.

"You're right. Still, we must thank him for our getaway." Meg pointed out. Christine nodded slowly, her brown curls bouncing in the candlelight from the movement.

"I don't understand why the managers where so angry, to be frank. I mean, everyone's heard of the Opera Ghost, even people who only visit us once for a single performance!" Meg frowned, shifting so she could see the other girl's face.

"I mean, he certainly brings us publicity." Meg continued. Christine smiled at her friend.

"Come on. Stop wondering about the Opera Ghost. We got free time, why not use it?"

Meg sat up, and grabbed her hat and cloak. "Well, say we go on a shopping trip?"

Christine grinned, and headed to her own bed to pick up her things. When she got there, she stilled.

Meg glanced at her friend, wondering at the sudden lack of movement. She hurried over to Christine side, and gasped.

"Oh Christine, you never told me you had an admirer!" Meg accused her, and picked up the rose that was lying on the pillow. Attached to the stem was a silky black ribbon along with a note. Meg snatched it up, and read it out loud.

"For my Angel." Meg pursed her lips. "Hmm…no name." She observed, flipping the card over to find it blank on the other side.

Christine tugged the rose back from her hands, and looked at it. A small smile lit her features, before she glanced around for something to put the rose in. She spied a vase filled with dry flowers, and dashed to it. She pulled out the bunch of daisies, and filled the vase with water from the sink next to the door. Then she placed the rose gently into the vase, and lowered it onto her bedside table. Christine turned back to face Meg, and gave a small laugh.

"Well? What are we waiting for?" She smiled, before scooping up her cloak and hat, and dashed towards the side doors.

Meg gave a backwards glance at the rose, before dashing after Christine's retreating figure.

* * *

"The nerve of that woman!"

Andre winced as the door crashed closed behind him. Firmin stalked to the desk and sat down, his face livid.

"You would think that adults these days didn't believe in the childish stories like the 'Opera Ghost'." He muttered darkly, throwing Andre a glare as well. Andre walked over to the desk as well, and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Calm down, Firmin. It's only a prank, no need to make such a fuss over it," Andre said, trying to get to man to settle down. Firmin gave a small sigh, and passed his hands over his face. He suddenly jumped, as something floated down from the ceiling.

"What in the world?!" Firmin grabbed up the letter which had just drifted so innocently onto the desk. He looked up at the rafters, trying to make out any shape in the gloom. Unable to seen anything, he made a frustrated sound. Andre plucked the letter from Firmin's hands, and stared at the blood-red skull shaped seal.

"Three guesses at who wrote this," Andre said gloomily, turning the letter over, showing Firmin the red seal. Firmin glared at the letter, as if his stare could make it disappear.

"I was wondering..." Andre trailed off, glancing uneasily at his friend. "What if this "Ghost" is actually real? We certainly have proof that _something_ exists here in this opera house.

Pointedly ignoring Andre's statement, Firmin snatched back the letter. He tore it open, and quickly scanned the note.

_My Managers,_

_Allow me to take this chance to tell you how wonderful it is to make your acquaintance. Judging by your reactions _  
_to my previous note, I thought you might need a brief reminder of my current terms._  
_I will expect__, at the end of every month, to receive my payment of 20,000 francs. This is to be left in Box 5, which_  
_also under no circumstances must be sold during any performance. _  
_If you comply with these requests, then monsieurs, there will be no need for a quarrel. However, if these_  
_terms are not met, then a disaster beyond your imagination will occur._

_Your obedient servant._  
_O.G._

Firmin gave a small cry of disgust and threw the letter onto the floor. Andre picked it up, and after reading it, folded the note and placed it onto the desk.

"Well," He gave a small sigh. "What should we do now?" He looked towards Firmin, who sat down heavily behind the desk.

"Nothing." Firmin stated angrily. "Not one god blessed thing. If this "O.G." person thinks that we're going to submit to his demands, he might as well believe anything then."

Andre gave a nervous glance up at the rafters again, before collapsing into the chair by the door.

"If you say so my friend," He stated wearily.

"If you say so."

* * *

_A/N: Okay guys, tell me what you think! I hope this chapter was okay, it is more of a filler than anything else. I hate fillers, but sometimes, you just can't avoid them._

_Please R&R, like I said, constructive critism is always welcome!_


	3. Unexpected Encounter

_I keep doing this, don't I? My writing muse had been locked up for the past month, and I hadn't been able to get anything on to the computer for a long time. But this time, he's back, so hopefully, he will be here to stay. Well, yes, here's the long awaited chapter. I'm halfway through chapter 4 as I type this, so cross your fingers, and hope that that'll be finished by next week or so!_

_Thanks to my brilliant beta, Arcelia. Couldn't have done this without you, m'dear. Thanks~!_

_**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Phantom of the Opera. Never did, never will.**_

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Meg followed Christine out onto the busy sidewalks of Paris, and hooked her arm through Christine's.

"Where to?" She grinned, her eyes twinkling.

"Well, I was thinking, we both need something to match our dresses for the annual ball…" Christine said, smiling back. Meg's eyes lit up, and both turned and made a beeline for the jewelers.

Meg pushed open the door, holding it open for Christine. A bell which hung from the door signaled their entrance. A lady walked to the counter from the backroom, and gave them a prim smile.

"How may I help you two young ladies this fine day?" She asked, resting both hands on top of the glass counter. Christine glanced out the window, smiling inwardly. The clouds had already covered most of the sky by now, its colour indicating the very high chance of rain. _A fine day indeed._

Meg fluttered her fingers at the lady. "Oh, no. We're just browsing, but thank you for the offer," she stated with an impish smile. The lady gave them a dubious glance, before sitting herself behind the counter.

Christine grinned at Meg, and decided to go for the silver items. She had always found gold to be overly flashy, and she'd much rather prefer something simple and elegant. She went through about 7 different pieces, when a squeal reached her ears.

"Oh look!" Meg cried, tugging on Christine's arm. Christine turned around and peered in the direction which Meg was pointing. Her heart jumped a beat as she realized who was climbing out of the carriage.

"It's the Vicomte!" Meg squeaked, nearly jumping in excitement. Christine shot a half-amused glance at her friend, trying to quell the sudden feelings of jealousy that had welled up within her without warning. She turned to face the shopkeeper when Meg suddenly let out another squeak, causing Christine to spin around again.

"He's coming this way!" Meg said fervently, grasping Christine's hand. "Don't panic, stay calm," she breathed, half to herself and half to Christine.

Christine could feel her nerves growing with every word that Meg uttered. It seemed to have a switch of its own, drawing on both her panic as well as her friend's.

Meg patted her hair, and checked her dress. The bell rang as the door swung open, admitting the gentleman. Christine breath caught in her throat as she looked him over. She had only caught a brief glance of his profile in the Opera House, but it didn't compare to seeing it up close._ He is just as handsome __as I remembered…_

Even as a small boy, he had been astoundingly attractive. Now as a man, with his bright blue eyes and his golden brown hair falling in deliberate curls to his shoulders, he was a sight to make any woman swoon over. The Vicomte glanced around the shop, and his gaze rested on the two girls standing towards the far side. He gave them a smile, before making his way to greet them.

He stopped about a metre away from them, and bowed elegantly. "Raoul de Chagny, Mademoiselles." He rose with a cheerful smile. "I had hoped I would not be the only one in this shop today, and it seems I'm in luck. And you ladies are…?"

"Meg Giry, Monsieur," Meg said, dropping immediately into a curtsy. Christine blinked, before grasping the sides of her dress as well.

"Christine," She stated softly, dipping a small curtsy as well. Meg flashed a confused look at her, wondering why she didn't give her last name.

Raoul's eyes seemed to flicker for a second, but that was soon replaced by a heart-melting smile.

"My pleasure," He said gaily, taking a hold of Meg's hand placing a kiss upon it. Meg giggled and blushed. He turned Christine and bestowed another kiss upon hers. After he released it, Christine dropped her hand like a brick, feeling her face begin to flush.

"Well, then, since we are both here today, would you Mademoiselles mind helping me out? I am in a situation here." He asked them, shifting his glance from Meg to Christine.

Meg gave him an unabashed smile, and leaned forward with eagerness. "No sir, we would not mind helping at all," She said, nudging Christine with her foot. Luckily, the gesture was missed by Raoul due to the number of petticoats both girls wore. Christine half glared at Meg, before trying a small smile in return.

"What do you need help with?" She asked. Raoul gave them both a small guilty smile.

"Well, you see, I proposed to my fiancé three weeks ago. Of course, being the girl she is, she wants us to be married as soon as deemed suitable. So," He shrugged, "Here I am, searching for a ring. I was going to bring my friend to help me pick one, but since he is out of town right now…" Raoul shifted on his feet, still smiling like a small school boy. "I guess I wanted a second opinion on which ever one I choose. I am often told my taste in jewelry is terrible."

Christine swallowed her disappointment. She had seen his eyes flicker; as if for a moment he had recognised her, but no._ And now he was engaged, of all things?_

Meg grasped the opportunity to hook her arm through Raoul's, and dragged him to the far side of the room. "Monsieur, we will help you pick out the perfect ring in no time," Meg assured him with a bright smile, and started pointing out the different designs. Christine followed them rather reluctantly, wanting to get out of the shop and go back to the dormitories. Meg was insistent however, and Raoul seemed genuinely interested on picking out the exact shape and design. Christine found herself spending the next hour surveying each piece which Meg pointed out, commenting here and there, and watching as Raoul put each piece in the 'maybe' pile.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Raoul finally choose a brilliant diamond set with emeralds on the side, and made the purchase. He turned to the girls and gave them a bow.

"I must thank you so much for helping me. But I fear the time is getting rather late, ladies, and I regrettably must get back to my coach. I bid you good day." Raoul flashed both girls a charming smile, and walked out.

She turned around and studied the display intently. Meg glanced at her friend, and placed her arm around Christine's shoulders. She felt a pang of guilt enter her. She had been overly friendly with the Vicomte, knowing perfectly well how Christine must have felt in his presence.

"Cheer up, my dear." Meg said in a soothing voice. "It's been a long time, and you've probably changed a lot from since you were seven."

Christine gave her a small but forced grin. "Thank you for trying Meg." She glanced out the shop window again, watching as Raoul climbed into his carriage. He motioned to the driver, who spurred the horse into a canter and moved away from the window. Christine stared at the outline of the Opera House in the distance, before tugging on Meg's hand.

"Come on. I think we've wasted enough time here," She said quietly, ignoring the sniff of annoyance which came from the shopkeeper at her words. Meg cast an apologetic look at the lady, before following Christine out the door.

* * *

Raoul sat down in the coach, taking off his hat. He shut the door, and bade the driver to return to his home. He rested his chin on his hands, and stared at the opposite wall of the carriage. That brown haired girl from before…She seemed strangely familiar, but he couldn't place exactly where he had seen her. Raoul frowned, trying to remember.

A dim memory resurfaced.

_A small brown haired __girl grasping at a red scarf…_

_The wind blowing it out her reach as __it fell __into the ocean…_

_He jumped in without a second thought, breaking the surface of the water…_

_He felt himself being pulled out of the sea, still gripping tightly onto the scarlet cloth…_

_He passed the scarf to the beaming girl, who placed a small kiss on his cheek…_

Raoul's eyes widened in disbelief.

_It couldn't be…_

_

* * *

_

_A/N:No Erik this chapter, but we finally see Raoul! I know my story isn't anything as good as the pro-writers here, but I hope you enjoyed reading it! Please leave a review, and constructive critism is always welcome! I want to hit the 30 mark by the next chapter, and all your reviews means so much to me! _


	4. My dear?

_Another update! I know what most of you are thinking: FINALLY! Terribly sorry, I keep doing this. I know, I don't have any excuses, but I will try to get chapters up faster! _

_Thank you to my beta, Arcelia!_

**_DISCLAIMER: I don't own Phantom of the Opera. Never did, never will._**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Christine walked down the street, refusing to look at anywhere else, choosing instead to keep her gaze fixed on the distant outline of the Opera House. Meg ran to catch up with her, gasping slightly.

"Christine, slow down!" She said, lifting her skirts and nearly jogging to keep up with Christine's longer and faster strides.

"I wanted to look at some of the fabric back there, but you're walking terribly fast and it's rather of a struggle for me-" Meg lapsed into silence, as she suddenly noticed the look on Christine's face.

Meg hesitated, before grasping Christine's arm. "I'm sorry," She said softly. Christine stopped in her tracks but did not turn around. Meg paused in hesitation again, before releasing Christine's arm. "I'm sorry…" She repeated, casting her gaze at her shoes.

Something within Christine seemed to snap as she tensed up. She rounded on Meg with a furious look on her face.

"How could you?" She half yelled. "You knew how I would feel, and yet you latched yourself on to him like any other swooning girl!" Christine could feel her eyes prickling with tears, but managed to force them back.

"You are no better than the rest of them! No matter that your friend is there with you, no matter that she feels very strongly for him, no, none of it matters!" Christine finished with a small scream in anguish, and stormed off.

"Christine…" Meg cried out desperately after her, but Christine wouldn't stop.

"Do not talk to me for the rest of today, Meg Giry," Christine stated coldly at her behind her back. "You will find I am not in the mood to be in the least sociable or happy to see you."

With that, she disappeared within the crowd of Parisians. Meg stood staring at the spot where her friend had just been, a look of guilt and sadness overtook her features. She slowly made her way towards the Garnier, taking great care to be as slow as possible for the sake of an angry and hurt friend.

* * *

The carriage trundled up the lane, and finally pitched itself to a stop outside the manor. The servant leapt down from the back of the carriage, and opened the door. Raoul stepped out onto the gravel and gave the man a small nod of thanks, then proceeded to make his way up the staircase.

He stepped into the foyer, handing his hat and coat to the servant, before he headed for the lounge room. He opened the door with a little push, and peeked inside with a grin.

A woman – a young girl, really – sat on the reclining couch holding a small book up to her eye level. Her golden hair tumbled down her back in curls as she flicked a dangling red ribbon impatiently away from her face. She started slightly when Raoul stepped in, but a beaming smile replaced her fright as she saw her fiancé.

"Raoul!" the young woman gave a small shriek of delight. "Now where have you been, I was waiting for such a long time." She gave a tiny pout as she placed the book down gently upon the side table. She sat up straighter and peered behind him at the doors, giving a nod to the servant who promptly closed it with a click.

"I was merely attending to my lady's needs," Raoul said, before passing the box out from behind his back and giving it to the beaming girl. Marianne gave a gasp of delight, and opened the box eagerly. Raoul leant down and gave her a peck on the cheek. Marianne giggled softly, her gaze fixed on the ring nestled within the box.

"Oh darling, this is simply gorgeous. But come now," She said with a small twinkle in her eyes. "You can't have picked this all by yourself. I mean, after all, your-"

"Taste in jewelry is horrible. I know." Raoul replied with a chuckle. "I had a little help from two girls I had met in the shop. One of them was rather shy…She didn't speak much at all, but..." A tiny frown appeared on his face as he recalled the girl.

"I could be mistaken, but I think not." He turned to Marianne and sat down beside her with a sigh.

"Do you recall the girl I told you about when I first met you?" He inquired. Marianne laughed.

"Oh yes, the girl who I had though was just a fragment of your imagination, used to make me jealous." She chimed.

"Of course I remember her. What of it, my dear?" Marianne asked, placing the ring and the box delicately down upon the table beside her. Raoul coughed slightly.

"I think…" He hesitated.

"I think it could be her. Christine, she said her name was. It couldn't be a coincidence." He pressed the tips of his fingers together, and stared out the window.

"I haven't seen her since I was twelve…" He murmured. Marianne gave a tiny tut in disapproval.

"Now, Raoul," She began with a warning tone. "You do remember who it is you are speaking to." She raised an eyebrow. Raoul gave her a fond smile.

"Of course, dear."

"But, since you have mentioned this," Marianne giggled, pressing a dainty hand to her mouth.

"I want to meet her." Raoul blinked, and looked at the girl sitting beside him.

"You…you want to meet her?" He asked incredulously. Marianne gave an enthusiastic nod, her eyes twinkling. Raoul gave a cough, a faint tinge appearing on his cheeks.

"Well, there is one tiny problem…" He trailed off. Marianne crocked her head to one side in question as she looked at her fiancé. Raoul glanced at her, before looking out the window again.

"You see…I don't know where she works or how to find her again…" He said with some embarrassment. Marianne just giggled.

"So much for the better. Now you can put her out of your mind and focus on us, and only us." She said, snaking her arm around Raoul and giving him an adoring look. Raoul glanced at her with a chuckle.

"Of course, my lady. Anything for you."

Marianne favoured him with a cheeky smile, before standing up. "Now dear, entertain me," She said as she lead him to the doors.

Raoul suppressed a small grin. _I have to admire her persistence. _He thought as he let himself be dragged out of the room.

* * *

_A/N: Eeep...So short. Note to self: Longer chapters. Please leave a review, it would mean the word to me! And I know, no Erik at all this chapter again...But I can safely promise, he will be here next chapter!!_


	5. More than Inspiration

_WOOT! Another update! I know, and within the month too! I must be getting faster....XDD. As always, I couldn't have done this without my beta, Arcelia! Thank you! And feel free to suggest character and plot development! So enjoy everyone!_

_**Disclaimer: Phantom of the Opera belongs to all the big people...And I'm not one of them.**_

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Erik paced up and down in front of his organ glaring in frustration every so often at the sheets of manuscript lying scattered around the bench.

He didn't know what was wrong. He couldn't write. Nothing seemed to come out at all. Erik sat down heavily upon the bench again, and stared at the keys. He did not move for the longest time. He didn't even blink when Ayesha leapt up on top of the organ, twitching her tail as she settled herself down.

The graceful Persian narrowed her eyes as she looked down from her position, and in one leap, she jumped onto the keys. A jarring chord filled the silence as her paws pressed down on the organ. Erik slowly drew his gaze onto his cat, and gave a tiny smile.

"My poor lady, I have neglected you," he murmured, lifting his hand to her body. Ayesha leapt into his lap, giving a loud purr while rubbing herself against him. Erik gave another faint smile and stroked her softly.

"You will be needing food, then," he stated quietly, and picked her up. He headed towards what was his 'kitchen', and placed her on the ground.

Looking around, he spied a flat dish, onto which he placed some meat cuttings. Ayesha gave a purr as the smell of the meat hit her feline nose. Erik placed the dish upon the ground, and watched as she tackled it with vigor.

Erik kept his gaze on his pet for a few seconds longer, before striding back to his organ. He looked at the few scattered manuscripts, his feelings of frustration and anger immediately returning.

He snarled at the offending pieces of paper, before turning away.

Suddenly, he stilled, lifting his gaze to the stony ceiling where a couple of hundred feet above, was the Opera House.

Erik stalked over to his chair, where his cloak was draped across the back, and picked it up. He fastened the ties mechanically, his mind thinking of other things.

Ayesha looked up from the position, crocking her head to one side as she looked at her owner. She gave a small meow.

_Where are you going? _She seemed to ask. Erik glanced down at her, and his expression softened.

"I'll be back soon, my darling." He told her, before grabbing his violin case and lasso. He took one last look at his organ, before disappearing silently into the darkness of the undergrounds.

Ayesha padded over to the entrance, and gave another low meow. The sound bounced off the dark walls, the echoes fading into the distance.

* * *

Christine let herself into the dorm quietly, hoping that no one was there. Unfortunately, as soon as she stepped in, the gaggle of ballet girls descended upon her.

"Where have you been?"

"And where is that Meg Giry?"

"How could you just leave? None of us did!"

Christine just pushed through them in silence, and made her way over to her bed. A few of the other girls who hadn't bothered leaving their seats shot her contemptuous looks.

Judging from their expressions, it was quite obvious that they found the situation highly unfair.

Christine loosened her ties from her coat, and draped it across the end of the bed. She could feel the glares from the girls still fixed upon her, and just wished they wouldn't try to speak to her. She could only hope that Meg would be back later; at least then she wouldn't have to deal with the animosity by herself.

_Wait._ She paused, scowling. _Why would I even care if she comes back early or not? _Christine thought as she pushed off her shoes. She glanced over her bed, picking at the sheets. Suddenly, she spied a tiny piece of paper pinned to the corner of her pillow. Frowning, she picked it up and read it quickly.

_Christine,  
Your lessons will be tonight. 7 o'clock._

She felt her spirits lifting slightly as she looked at the note. Suddenly, she whipped her head to the clock that was mounted onto the far left side of the room. She muttered a low curse. It was forty five minutes past six!

Picking up her casual attire, she changed at record speed and headed back towards the door.

"Oh look, where are you sneaking off to now?" One of them said scathingly.

"My bet is that she's going to visit a certain someone…One can only guess what they might get up to."

A tide of giggles erupted from the girls.

"And I bet that Meg Giry will be there too…Even better with _three_…"

More laughter broke out at the comment, leaving Christine clenching her teeth in an attempt to keep any biting remarks to herself. She pushed open the door, and marched out, slamming it in her wake.

She finally stopped in her tracks two corridors down, fuming as she stared at the candles which lit up the hallway. She took a couple of deep breaths, forcing herself to calm down.

_You knew that they would say things like tha__t,_her head told her. _Their comments aren't__ worth taking into heart._

Glancing at the darkening corridor, Christine made her way softly to the small stone chapel at the very end of the Garnier. She arrived at the door, sparing one last glance into the gloom before pushing it open. She slipped inside, and closed it behind her with a small click. Christine gave a soft sigh, and walked towards the altar, where an unlit candle stood waiting.

She slowly knelt down upon the short padded stool, and looked up at the painting opposite her.

"Angel…" She whispered. Christine didn't need to raise her voice. She knew that no matter how softly she called, her Angel would always be able to hear her.

"Christine…" The heavenly voice hit her ears, and Christine closed her eyes briefly in rapture.

"Angel, I am here for my lesson," She stated softly, peering up at the painting.

She could sense her Angel frowning as paused in his speech.

"You do not look happy, my dear." His voice cooed, the tones immediately calming her. "What is wrong?"

Christine looked distracted to the side. "Trivial matters, Angel." She tried a small smile. "It hardly matters, and I would rather begin our lesson."

Her Angel still remained doubtful. "Are you quite sure…?" He inquired. Christine gazed at the painting, giving a firm nod.

"Very well, we shall begin immediately." The voice immediately changed, from a soft calming melody to a brisk and commanding tone. "Your scales if you please." Christine bobbed her head, and stood up, brushing her skirt until it was settled.

"C major scale," A note was played upon a violin, and she opened her mouth, and began to sing. For the next half hour, her voice rose and fell in pitch with the strings, occasionally pausing as the Angel fixed a certain aspect of her body or vocal position.

"Enough scales, my dear. We move on." A draft entered into the room, and seemingly from the roof, pages of manuscript fell into her hands. Christine glanced up, seeing nothing but the ceiling and the support beams.

She looked down at the music in her hands, and read the title.

"Dark Waltz?" She asked, before skimming through the notes and singing them in her head.

"I thought we might try something a bit more different from your usual songs." The voice told her.

Christine smiled and gave a small nod. She read over the words, humming as she went along.

"Oh, this song is beautiful!" She exclaimed, pressing the manuscript to her chest. "Where did you find it?"

Her Angel chuckled, and Christine closed her eyes, savoring the sound. _His laugh almost had a melody of its own…_

He played her the main tune of the song, making sure she could pitch her voice right, before striking up the introduction. Christine waited for a few bars, before she opened her mouth and began to sing.

"_We are the lucky ones__  
__We shine like a thousand suns__  
__When all of the colour runs together_

_I'll keep you company__  
__In one glorious harmony__  
__Waltzing with destiny forever_

_Dance me into the night__  
__Underneath the full moon shining so bright__  
__Turning me into the light_

_Time dancers whirling past__  
__I gaze through the looking glass__  
__And feel just beyond my grasp is heaven_

_Sacred geometry__  
__Where movement is poetry__  
__Visions of you and me forever_

_Dance me into the night__  
__Underneath the full moon shining so bright__  
__Turning me into the light_

_Dance me into the night__  
__Underneath the full moon shining so bright__  
__Let the dark waltz begin__  
__Oh let me wheel - let me spin__  
__Let it take me again__  
__Turning me into the light"_

As the last strains of the violin melted away, Christine could almost hear her Angel's sigh beside her ears.

"You have done well today, my dear." Her Angel said. Christine ducked her head modestly, but she could feel her face glowing from the praise.

"We shall resume the lessons next week, same time." The voice began to fade, throwing Christine into a state of panic. _So soon?_ She thought desperately as she searched her mind for anything to delay his departure.

"Angel, wait!' She cried, looking at the painting. She could almost sense her Angel's hesitance, before his voice spoke again.

"Yes, Christine?"

Christine bit her lip, before asking the question. "Angel, will you show yourself to me? Please, just this once, so I can see what you are like?"

She heard the intake of breath as her question hit her Angel. "I…can not…My dear, you know it is forbidden."

Oh yes, she knew. Every time she had asked him the question, it was always the same answer she received.

"But please Angel…for me?" She pleaded, clasping her hands together in her lap. Her Angel gave a low moan; almost as if he were in torment.

"Christine…please…" He beseeched almost as desperately as her.

"How long will I have to go without seeing your face? I cannot bare this for much longer, you know that Angel!" Christine said soulfully.

"Christine, please…when the time comes…" Her Angel said, and she could hear the pain laced in between his words.

Christine gave a defeated sigh. "When the time comes…" She echoed, before lifting herself up to a standing position.

"Good night, my Angel," She whispered, before she headed to the door. Just before she closed it, his voice drifted through the room.

"Good night, my Christine,"

* * *

Erik watched as Christine slipped out of the chapel, before turning around. Mechanically, he began to clean his violin, and placed it back in its casing.

_One of the disadvantages of teaching behind a painting in a cobwebbed-filled and unlit hallwa__y,_ he reflected,_ wa__s that attracting a bit dust was unavoidable._

Well, more than just a _bit_.

Only after when his instrument had been meticulously packed away, did Erik sink down into a heap onto the cold stones.

She had begged, and he had refused. Like always. But this time…

Barely.

He groaned and grasped his hair in his hands, twisting its length until the strands became knotted in his fingers.

How often had that question been asked to him? He could hardly remember.

But never had it had this much of an effect on him.

What had changed?

Her voice pleading with such desperation?

Or something else?

He had wanted inspiration for his music. What he got was a lot more than he had bargained for.

Slowly, he pushed himself off the bare stones of the hidden passageway. Picking up his violin, and without as much as a backward glance, he made his way slowly back into the gloom of the underground.

* * *

_A/N: Almost a full Erik chapter!! Yes! But sadly...Raoul will be back with his fiancé...Dreadful, I know, but can't be avoided. And I just couldn't resist adding in Dark Waltz. I can honestly see Christine and Erik singing and playing the violin. If you haven't heard the song, just search it up on Youtube. It is such a beautiful song..._

_Anyway, please leave a review if you liked reading my story! I'll try to update sooner!!_


	6. Box Five?

_I'm so sorry for the late update. Unfortunately, voer the past few weeks, I've been trying to rewrite this chapter and the next chapter, because they somehow disappeared off my USB. I know. POOF. Vanished. I was really angry, because this meant that me, Miss snail-paced writer, had to start all over again. Not good. So I apologise terribly for this delay. Hopefully, I'll get Chapter 7 up soon._

_Thanks to my brilliant beta, Arcelia!_

_**Disclaimer: If I owed Phantom of the Opera, would I really bother writing here? **_

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Christine tiptoed down the corridor, her eyes scanning the dark corners of the hallway where the candlelight couldn't reach.

She knew she needed to get back to her dormitory immediately.

She also knew her lessons averaged to around two hours, and judging from the light outside (which there wasn't any,) it was well past her proper bed time.

Christine treaded down the second landing, casting a nervous look behind her as she heard a creak. She really didn't want to run into any of the stage hands or…

…the Opera Ghost.

There were always rumours, of course.

Workers disappearing on the night shifts after hearing noises, damaged sets and props turned up the most unexpected places, and of course, the rumoured murders…

Christine had always believed these to be true.

_After all, if her Angel could exist, why couldn't __a Ghost?_

Christine shivered slightly in her thin dress, wishing she had at least brought something to drape over it. _My cloak, or even a blanket..._

She passed the first dorm, where presumably, the chorus girls were sleeping. She rounded the corner, and-

Came face to face with the Ballet Mistress.

Christine gulped, involuntarily moving back a pace. She ducked her head, fixing her eyes on the floorboards beneath her shoes.

Madame Giry's eyebrows rose as she surveyed the young girl in front of her.

"Well…?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"Where, may I ask, have you been?" Each syllable was punctuated by the tapping of her foot, her eyes fixed upon Christine.

_Not good,_ Christine thought as she racked her brains to come up with an excuse.

"I was…" she paused, glancing up at Madame Giry.

"I was at the chapel…" Christine murmured, shifting on her feet and twisting her hands in the folds of her dress.

Suddenly, Madame Giry glanced down the darkening corridor, as if she had heard something.

Muttering slightly, she quickly grasped Christine arm and led her down the wing. She directed Christine back to her dorm and released her at the door.

The girl resisted the urge to rub her arm where Madame Giry had held it. _Her grip is like iron…! _Christine thought with a wince as she stood uncomfortably in front of her dormitory.

"Inside. Now," the Ballet Mistress barked. Christine dipped a quick curtsey, not wanting to anger her further and disappeared through the entrance. The door closed with a soft click.

The older woman stared at the wooden barrier in front of her, passing a hand over her eyes.

"Erik…" Madame Giry sighed in exasperation, before making her way back to her own rooms.

She needed to have a word with him - and soon.

* * *

Christine tiptoed down the aisle, breathing a sigh of relief at the snoring girls.

She was lucky that they were asleep. She was tired, and more explanations meant more trouble.

She padded over to her own bed in the corner of the room, muffling a yawn with her hand. Lessons always left her slightly drained afterwards, but she was content.

She shrugged off her cotton dress, and slipped on her dressing gown.

Throwing off the covers, she fell into bed with a soft _thump_.

He brain dimly acknowledged the fact that Meg, who slept in the bed beside hers, had indeed returned safely. Christine did feel guilty now that she had yelled at her friend, accusing her, and then just leaving her.

_I'll apologise in the morning,_ she told herself.

Her thoughts turned to her lessons again, and she smiled faintly. She had been so close…

_I'll double my efforts next time,_ she mused.

_That way, he can't possibly refuse…_

And with that lingering thought, Christine fell into a steady sleep.

* * *

"But…Vicomte…" Andre stuttered as he half ran in an attempt to keep up with the faster-paced Raoul.

The new patron had arrived very early this morning, giving the flustered managers little time to prepare for his arrival.

"There are no other boxes available?" Raoul asked with an irritated voice, passing the statues which lined the hallway.

His nose wrinkled slightly in distaste. He had always hated those things, ever since he laid eyes on them. _G_

_arish and completely unnecessary._

"No…I'm terribly sorry, Monsieur Vicomte, but-"

"That's enough, gentlemen," Raoul interrupted, his jaw clenched in anger.

"I really can't see why two men like yourselves are taking this seriously. Has anyone actually seen this Opera Ghost?"

Andre shifted uncomfortably under the younger man's glare.

"No one except the ballet girls and a stage hand called Buquet. They constantly tell of their near encounters with this Opera Ghost fellow…" He trailed off, casting an uneasy look at his partner.

Firmin scowled, refusing to lend a hand.

Raoul barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"I hardly see how a few tittering ballet girls and a stage hand could be a correct source of information, monsieurs. I will have Box Five under my name by tonight, or there will be consequences," he told them in a not-so subtle threat as he moved down the grand stair case.

"And in any case," Raoul continued, "I will not disappoint my fiancé tonight. She will be here this evening as well; so make sure, gentlemen that any available box will be ours."

He fixed both with a glare that could peel paint.

Firmin's moustache twitched, as if he was trying to displace an irritable fly. Raoul ignored him, and gave them a small nod of his head.

"Good day to you, monsieurs." And with that, he turned his head and moved down the stairs, heading towards the main doors.

Andre pressed a hand to his temples.

"This is just ridiculous!" Firmin cried, finally deciding to voice his opinion.

"Box Five is the only one free, and none of this 'Opera Ghost' nonsense is going to keep me from selling it." He snarled.

Andre winced. Indeed, the whole house was fully booked tonight.

They couldn't possibly replace anyone, and the only box available had to be _that_ one…

"Very well…" Andre muttered. "Box Five it is…"

* * *

The de Chagny carriage pulled up alongside the entrance of the Opera House. As soon as the carriage stopped, the driver leapt off his seat and dashed to the carriage door, opening it swiftly. A heart shaped face framed by masses of golden curls appeared in the opening.

Marianne gave the driver a tiny smile, and stepped down onto the dusty Paris streets. She eyed the Opera House with some interest, before moving forward. Before she could place a single step upon the stairs, her fiancé appeared at the very top, making his way down. Raoul paused when his eyes met her, and a smile appeared on his face.

"Marianne!" he declared with delight, and rushed down the stairs to meet her.

"I wasn't expecting you at all, my dear. Why are you here?" he asked as he placed a kiss on her hand.

Marianne giggled, kissing him on the cheek.

"Why else?" She asked mischievously.

"I couldn't possibly wait until tonight to see this place; I was dying to know what it looks like." She turned her head up at the roof, where the gold statues shone in the early sunlight.

"And besides," she added, climbing up the stairs eagerly, "I can hardly enjoy the views at night time. You know how I hate the dark, dear."

Raoul frowned, and hurried back up the stairs after her.

"Marie, we must get going," he stated softly, falling into step beside her.

"You know how mother hates us 'wasting time', as she so clearly stated." Marianne rolled her eyes.

"Oh, just this once?" She faced him with pleading eyes.

"You hardly ever take me out…" She gave a tiny pout, bowing her head. Raoul eyed her, before giving a small sigh.

"Very well…" he muttered.

Marianne immediately perked up at this, giving an excited squeal and rushed up the rest of the stairs and into the Grand foyer, the sadness and pout completely gone from her face.

Raoul couldn't help but give a faint smile. She was, after all, still just a young girl really.

_I shouldn't expect too much from her, _he thought, with an indulgent shake of his head as he followed her back into the Opera house.

* * *

_A/N: I know, it's another filler chapter..I really do hate them. But alas, unavoidable. I hope eveyrone is enjoying the sotry so far! I'll try super hard to get chapter 7 done quickly, but I'm going to need to dig my brains for more inspiration. Please R&R, it means so much to this authoress!_


	7. So Much For That

_Ah, I apologise again immensly to my readers! Of course, you all heard about my USB wiping itself, so this chapter and the next one had been deleted. And with work and life piled on top of that, I have only just finished this chapter. The only good thing is, it's my longest one yet, a way of saying sory once again. So if you still have the heart to rad this, I thank you, and please leave a review! They make this authoress happier with every one you leave!!_

**DISCLAIMER: Why must you prick my bubble of happiness? I could've pretended that POTO did indeed belong to me and not the big shots...but no, you just had to go and make me write this disclaimer... So, I do not own Phantom of theOpera or any of it's characters. Don't sue me. Go sue Andrew Lloyd Webber for writing a god darned sequel!!!  
**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 7**

"Wake up, girls!"

Madame's voice rang out through the dormitories. Christine jerked awake, and groaned. She had been having such a nice dream…

Levering herself off the pillow with a small groan, she swung her legs onto the ground. The bare stones were rather cold as she pulled on her day dress, half hopping to stand in front of the mirror that was fixed onto the wall. She ran a comb through her hair, not that it helped much; her hair still remained in a tangled mess around her head.

As she threaded a ribbon through to keep it in place, she could see Meg's form in the mirror, stretching as she got out of bed. Christine hesitated, biting her lips as she kept her eyes on her friend's figure.

_Well, you said you were going to apologise._ Her brain stated with a tone that reminded herself of Madame Giry. Christine sighed.

"Just breathe, Christine," she muttered to herself, dropping her brush back onto the counter. She drew a deep breath, turned around and walked over to where Meg was tidying up her bed, trying not to meet Christine's eyes.

"Meg…" Christine started, but trailed off, not sure exactly what to say. Meg finally looked up at her friend, trying to hide the hope in her eyes. Christine swallowed slightly, before continuing.

"I know what happened yesterday was an accident, and I apologise for shouting at you. It was unjust and I treated you badly, and I hope you can forgive me," Christine stated with her eyes downcast, trying to sound sincere as possible.

When Meg didn't utter a sound, Christine looked up. Meg's eyes were shining with tears as she launched herself onto Christine, giving her a hug.

"I'm so sorry Christine!" she cried, squeezing her friend tightly. Christine patted her softly on the back, smiling a little.

"I'm sorry too Meg," she said softly. Meg pulled back and wiped her eyes. "If I can forgive you, can you forgive me?"

"Of course!" Meg cried. "You are my best friend, and I would never do anything on purpose to hurt you."

Christine smiled. "I know." Meg gave a watery smile in response. Christine sighed, and pulled out her handkerchief from her gown pocket.

"Here, dry your eyes." She said, handing the piece of cloth to Meg, who accepted it with a small "thank you".

After Meg had somewhat gotten over her fit of tears, she glanced over towards the clock on the mantel.

"Oh dear! Christine, we had better hurry, or Mama will scold us for not attending breakfast on time!" she said in a hurry, pulling on Christine's arm. Christine slowly detached her friend's hand from her sleeve, giving Meg a little smile.

"I don't really feel like breakfast this morning Meg," Christine said. It wasn't a lie either. She doubted she could stomach anything today; her nerves are already on high flutter because of tonight's gala. "You go down with the others. I'll meet you for practice."

"Are you quite sure, Christine?" Meg asked with her blue eyes filled with worry. Christine just smiled and gave her a nod.

"Quite sure. Now go eat," she pushed her friend towards the door. Meg casted one last uncertain glance at her before disappearing quickly through the door.

Christine followed her out of the room, glancing behind her to make sure no other stragglers were there so see, before heading down the stairs towards the stage.

She could use a little more practice…

**---**

To push open the door which leads into the wings was a tricky business. The thing must have been there for the past century, judging from its state and condition. The method for opening it was something which followed like this: Firstly, kicking it on the left side, then kicking it on the right, followed by a push tilted towards the left, and then heaving it up slightly. After that process, one must learn to not close the door behind you, because unfortunately, it doesn't open from the other side.

By the time Christine had managed to get the door open, her cheeks were already rosy from the exercise. She left the door ajar and softly treaded down the winding stairs which lead to the stage area. As she drew closer, she could see the lights had already been lit.

_Funny,_ she thought as she walked softly over to the edge of the curtains. _Didn't the stagehands remember to douse the lights…?_

Christine slowly peeked from behind the scarlet curtainsand bit back a gasp. Standing at the front of the stage was…Raoul! And there was a girl with him…

She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the younger girl's features. From her attire, Christine could tell she was someone of importance. Her throat constricted as she realised the truth: This must be his betrothed…

"Marianne, dear, we should be going soon…" He voice reached Christine's ears, causing her heart to skip a beat. The girl _– No, her name was Marianne _– just laughed.

"Raoul, just a little longer please?" She begged with one of the cutest (_well__, there was no other word to describe it,_ Christine thought) voice she had ever heard in her life.

She saw Raoul give a small a sigh. "All right. Just a little longer..."

Marianne skipped onto the centre of the stage with a giggle, giving her dress a whirl. She smiled at her fiancé, before dipping into a curtsey. Raoul grinned back, giving a small shake of his head. She gave a tinkling laugh, and began to sing.

As her voice travelled across the stage, Christine felt herself grow more and more jealous. Marianne, it turns out, had a rather lovely voice. _She would never be a great singer, _Christine thought, _but she was definitely better than Carlotta._

This only made her feel worse as she peered at the younger girl. She knew that Raoul's fiancée would be very pretty, but even so, Marianne's loveliness had thrown Christine off guard.

_Of course, his parents would want the best for him,_ she thought as she watched the younger girl skip and dip on the stage, reminiscent of a nightingale. She could feel her fists clench the fabric of the curtains that hid her from view, as if trying to squeeze the life away from the inanimate object.

"Darling, you are the best I've heard. Marvellous, absolutely marvellous!" Raoul praised his fiancée enthusiastically.

This time, Christine couldn't help but let out a disgusted noise.

"Who's there?" Raoul asked suddenly, peering at the shadows backstage. Christine clasped her hands over her mouth immediately, and began to edge away from the opening, trying not to make any sound.

_You idiot!_ Her brain furiously repeated to her over and over again. She kept her gaze fixed on the illuminated stage, in case she needed to make a dash for it. Marianne's voice, filled with curiosity and excitement, floated back to where Christine was hiding.

"Dear, do you think it could be that Opera Ghost that people always talk about?"

Christine could've laughed. _Ludicrous! Me? The Opera Ghost? Oh, the Phantom indeed._

"Don't be silly Marie, it's just a myth," Raoul voice came, firm but with laughter hidden around the edges. Christine gave an inner sigh of relief. _Thank god…_

"But I think it would be wise to check if there is someone there, isn't it?" His voice continued. Christine groaned softly. _So much for that then…_

Hearing footsteps make itself up the stairs and across the stage, Christine tried to make herself as scarce as possible, shrinking into the voluminous amounts of curtain and the darkened areas in the wings. She held her breath as the footsteps stopped just in front of her hiding space, pausing as if they were looking around.

"Not a soul in sight Marie," Raoul voice issued from just in front of Christine. His footsteps clacked across the stage again, the sound becoming smaller and smaller as he moved away.

Christine released the breath she had been holding, and waited for another minute, making sure that she couldn't hear him anymore. As soon as she felt it was right, she turned around and dashed into the backstage area. That had been close…too close for comfort, and if he had been one step closer –

"Caught you," Raoul grinned as she ran dead into his chest. Christine gasped, and jerked out of his grip, backing away from the man in front of her. Damn it. She had forgotten the backstage door. Christine couldn't help but glance over him appreciatively though. He hadn't changed much from yesterday, his hair still falling in perfect waves down to his shoulders, his blue eyes watching her intently.

"Christine?" He asked, tipping his head to one side in question. She paused in her steps, still staring at him.

"Raoul…" She tried hesitantly, stopping halfway across the stage. His face spilt into a wide grin.

'I knew it! It's you, Christine, isn't it?" He laughed, and dashed up to her. Without any warning, he flung his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

"Oh Christine, do you know how good it is to see you again after so many years?" He cried, half laughing as he pulled away, sliding his hands down to grasp hers tightly. Christine stood shock still, her mouth half gaping open in surprise. Whatever she had expected, it definitely wasn't this.

_Close your mouth, you probably look like a fish!_ Her brain chided urgently. Hurriedly, Christine clamped her mouth shut and pointedly withdrew her hands from his.

"Ahem…?" A small voice came from behind Raoul, who still had the foolish grin pasted across his face. He turned around and beamed at Marianne, seizing hold of Christine again and propelling her until she stood in front of him.

"Marie, what did I tell you?" He exclaimed enthusiastically. "It was her after all!" Christine gave an inner cringe at Raoul's excitement, noting the look on Marianne's face. Normally, she would've been dreadfully happy to have the chance to see Raoul again after so many years…but not with an audience waiting for her reactions and definitely not when the audience was his fiancée. And she didn't need to be a genius to figure out that Marianne wasn't quite so enthusiastic to meet her.

"Indeed?" Marianne stated with raised eyebrows. "So this is the infamous Christine Daaé."

Christine hesitated. _How am I supposed to answer to that? Nod? Curtsey? Or just say yes? _

In the end she settled for a simple bob of the head, her throat constricting too much for her to utter a word. Raoul however, didn't seem to detect his fiancée's hostility.

"Christine, allow me to introduce my fiancée, Lady Marianne le Courayer." Christine quickly dipped into a curtsey, keeping her head fixed on the bright blue hem of the younger girl's dress.

"A pleasure to meet you, my lady," she muttered, managing to unstuck her throat.

"The pleasure's all mine," Marianne stated coolly. Christine suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. _Yes indeed. Pleasure? You look like you've just swallowed a bucket full of ice. _

Raoul just stood beaming at Christine. Marianne sniffed slightly, a small frown upon her face.

"We have so much to talk about, Christine! Ah, but time again is against us…" Raoul trailed off disappointedly, extracting his pocket watch from inside his coat and glancing at it before tucking it away again with a sigh. Marianne let out a small 'hmph', and turned towards the stairs that led off the stage. He sent a confused look after her, before turning with a shrug back to Christine. Seizing her hands once more, he gave them a small squeeze, his eyes twinkling.

"Say you'll come visit me?" He asked eagerly. Christine hesitated, her head unconsciously shifting slightly so she could see the back of Marianne's deep sapphire dress disappearing out the auditorium doors.

"I…" She fidgeted slightly, not meeting his eyes. "I'm not sure if your fiancée would approve…"

Raoul just smiled. "Nonsense! Marianne told me that she had wanted to meet you, though I guess she's not feeling like her usual self today..." He frowned slightly, but dismissed the thought with a shake of his head.

"So that has been settled then, I assume?" Raoul chuckled. "My carriage will be here tomorrow to pick you up at around half past nine, so make sure you're ready by then."

Christine opened her mouth to tell him that she couldn't tomorrow, but Raoul let no room for protest.

"No, Christine, none of that. We've not seen one another for more than eightyears, and I am hardly about to pass up the opportunity," Raoul stated sternly. Christine just sighed. Of course she was happy. To meet Raoul again and finally hold a decent proper conversation with him! It was what she wanted…isn't it?

"I shall see you tomorrow then, Lotte. Oh, and I'll see if I can spy you at tonight's gala! Marianne will be there too, we can not wait!" With one last hug, he left, leaving Christine still standing on the stage with stunned disbelief.

**---**

"Marie!" Raoul's voice floated down the front steps just as Marianne placed one foot inside the carriage. She shot him a disapproving glare before ducking inside without a word. Raoul ran down the last few stairs and clambered into the carriage, signalling for the driver to move. He settled back inside and frowned at his fiancée.

"Marianne, what is the matter? You are not happy," he said, reaching out to grasp her hands. Marianne shot him a livid glare, causing Raoul to draw back with a worried expression.

"What is the matter?" he scoffed. "Oh yes, darling, of course there is nothing in the slightest the matters."

Raoul winced slightly at her tone. "Is it because of Christine?" He asked uncertainly.

Marianne sneered at him, the expression twisting her face so that it hardly looked like hers.

"What do you think, _darling_?" She asked heatedly, waiting for him to realise. Raoul released a sigh in disappointment.

"Marie..." He hesitated, before continuing with a disapproving tone. "I know you are my fiancée, and I know my behaviour earlier might have been slightly…unacceptable by your standards, but think on it!" Raoul implored her. "I have not seen my friend for more than eight years; do I not have the right to be at least somewhat excited?"

Marianne gave another small 'hmph', and promptly turned her face towards the window, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"And you had said so yourself. You wanted to meet her." he pointed out. Marianne ignored him.

Raoul just shook his head forlornly.

_So much for that then…

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_A/N: I hoped you guys enjoyed that chapter! Ah, Marianne is such a fun character to write. Sorry, no Erik again...I keep delaying him, but I don't think he'll be here next chapter either...But maybe, if I feel nice, he might make an appearance. XDD_

_Constucive critism is always welcome, as well as any plot development you want to see! Thanks again for reading!!_


	8. Show Time

_Erm...hello everyone...-laughs nervously-... Yes, I know. I haven't updated this forever, and I feel really bad. I'm terribly sorry to all of my readers (if I still have any left, that is) so here's the next chapter. I'm not sure how long it'll be until I update again, but I hope you enjoy what I've written so far. This is unbeta-ed at the moment, so any mistakes is purely my fault._

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any of it's characters. I just take them out to play. **

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**Chapter 8**

"Christine?"

At the sound of her name being called out from the wings, Christine shook herself out of her stupor. She turned her head up towards the top of the staircase, making out the dim outline of a person with pale blonde hair. She managed a small smile at Meg, trying to compose herself.

"I'm here," she called back, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Meg made her way down the winding staircase quickly, her feet making almost no sound as she stepped off the stairs, her hands filled with a small bundle.

"I saved you some rolls," Meg said as she stopped next to her friend, handing her the two bread rolls wrapped in a handkerchief. Christine gave her a grateful smile and accepted the food, walking back over to the benches along the wall. She sat down slowly and grasped one of the rolls, absently tearing it into small pieces and occasionally popping one into her mouth. Meg followed her and placed herself down next to Christine, crossing her ankles as she looked at her companion.

"Are you okay?" Meg ventured a small question. Christine looked at Meg and sighed, lowering the piece of bread she had lifted up to her lips.

"I...suppose so..." she said uncertainly, staring at the crumbs in her lap. Meg sat forward on the bench, her body twisting so she could see Christine's full profile.

"Did anything happen? You look different..." Meg squinted at Christine, her eyes searching.

"No, I'm fine Meg. Honest to god."

"I doubt that..." she said suspiciously, still eyeing her with narrowed eyes. Christine just shook her head, a small smile appearing on her face.

"I'm fine." she said only slightly forcefully. "How about you tell me what I missed this morning?"

Meg gave her one last look before leaping off the bench with a bright smile. "Oh fine. Come on, I'll tell you along the way. Mama has been asking for you." she said, dragging Christine onto her feet. The crumbs scattered across the floor as Christine was jerked up, and she allowed herself to be led away by Meg.

"Let's see then," Meg said cheerfully, always happy to share a good story, "Did you know that Jammes apparently saw the Opera Ghost? She was squeaking the details to us at breakfast. That girl is always telling tales of course but I don't think she was this time..." Meg's voice continued to rattle on, recounting the events of breakfast with an incredible enthusiasm.

Christine just smiled and nodded, not really processing the words at all. Instead, she allowed her mind to drift to Raoul and his fiancé, and the conversation she had with him just a couple of minutes ago, and his invitation for her to visit.

Should she visit? After all, Raoul had invited her, and he seemed more than happy to have a proper conversation after 8 years. His fiancé however...

Christine wasn't an expert on human emotions, but to say that Marianne was less than happy to see her was an understatement. Dare she risk the younger girl's anger?

"...and Sorelli mentioned that our costumes are apparently out of fashion already, that made half of the girls start talking about new clothes..."

And furthermore, she had no idea how she was going to get there at all. Raoul forgot to mention exactly where his house was, so getting there would be extremely difficult... And then there was the problem of money...

"...and are you listening to me, Christine?"

"Pardon?" Christine shook herself out of her stupor, and gave Meg a confused smile. The blonde haired girl only shook her head.

"You are acting very strangely today, Christine."

"Oh, I'm just a tad distracted, that's all..."

Meg gave a small 'hmph' and turned her head back to the face the hall again.

"Anyway, we better get our costumes ready for tonight. And I think we can fit in another practice session as well..."

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The rest of the day passed without much excitement, and the evening came far too quickly for Christine's liking. She stood in the wings with the other dancers as they waited for the start of the performance and the rest of the guests to seat themselves. Meg was hopping up and down next to her, chatting away to her quiet friend.

"Oh my god! I can see the Duchess de Chambourg, I had no idea she'd be here! Oh and over there!" The blonde girl squealed enthusiastically as she tugged on her friend's arm.

"Meg, please stop," Christine said with a pleading tone, "You're making me anxious..."

Meg ignored her, and peered around the curtain again. Suddenly, she froze, her eyes fixed on the Box right next to the stage.

"Christine..." Meg whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "This isn't good."

"What is it?"

"Isn't that you friend Raoul?"

"Oh yes, it is...and his fiancé as well."

"Have you realised where they're sitting...?"

"Oh my god..."

"They've got Box 5!" Meg gave a tiny shriek.

"What?" At her words, the rest of the Corps de Ballet rushed to peer around the curtains as well, half clambering over each other to get a glimpse of the poor unfortunate souls who happened to be seated there.

"Oh, the Opera Ghost won't be happy…" Jammes whispered with a frightened expression, her voice pitched higher than usual with nervousness. "But the managers never listen, do they?"

Christine shook her head, her eyes still fixed on Raoul seated far above them. _His_ eyes were staring pointedly at his fiancé who seemed to be blatantly ignoring him, fanning herself with one hand. Christine hid a small smile. Soon enough, the rest of the murmurs from the crowd died down, and the orchestra struck the first chords of the music.

"Finally!" Meg muttered as the girls clambered into line. Christine took her own place, and watched as the red curtains parted on stage. She pulled her face into a smile and glided on with the rest of the girls.

_It was show time.

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_A/N: Please leave a review, it'll make my day! Thank you for reading!_


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